


Strike a Spark

by setepenre_set



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: F/M, Song fic, birthday kidnapping, supervillain shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set
Summary: Roxanne's 30th birthday kidnapping.Megamind and Roxanne get on like...something...on fire, certainly.
Relationships: Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 200





	Strike a Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RevukanFendrenim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevukanFendrenim/gifts).



_(music, as she’s awakening.)_

—smooth fade up from silence to full volume, instrumental, all bright horns and sugar-pop nostalgia, wordlessly pulling her up with it, rising out of the knockout-spray scented twilit haze, up and uP and UP

_sunlight_

(gold white and dazzling, unexpected, no kidnapping bag)

Roxanne winces, raises a hand reflexively to shade her eyes. 

A soft sound, a pleased exhalation of breath like the beginning of laughter, and Roxanne squints past the protective bar of her upraised wrist. 

—a small space, sort of a half-walled round platform—a _raised_ platform, the sky visible over the enclosing wall. They must be fairly high up, because she can’t see any of the city’s skyscape—no buildings, no trees, just sky, clear and cloudless and _blue_ , the clarity of it almost blinding.

Megamind, looking like a piece of sky himself, on his feet and half-turned away from her, both hands busy on a very abbreviated control panel and screen—but sunlight glints green in his sidelong glance as Roxanne meets his gaze.

Swift and sudden, the sharp curve of his smile, unfurled like a deck of cards fanned out in the hands of a magician, as the music _rises_ to a crescendo and the lyrics begin.

_Judy and Johnny just walked through the door_   
_Like a queen with her king_

A woman’s voice, light, aloof, regretful; Roxanne can almost recognize the song; by Megamind’s expectant expression, he’s waiting for her to do so—

_Oh what a birthday surprise_   
_Judy's wearin' his ring_

Wait. Wait a minute—

_It’s my party—_

“—oh, you have got to be kidding me—”

_—and I’ll cry if I want to—_

Megamind cackles, head thrown back, pure unrestrained glee and Roxanne can’t bite back her own snort of amusement.

_Cry if I want to, cry if I want to_   
_You would cry too if it happened to you_

Yeah, okay; this is a pretty wild way to turn thirty, all things considered.

_Oh it's my party,_

Megamind grins at her, laughter still at the corners of his mouth, winks at her—of all the absolute nerve—and flicks a little switch on the control panel.

 _and I'll **c** r **y i**_ **f** _**I wa** _ **nt** _**t** o_

**_C_ r _y—i_ f _I—_ wa _n_ t _t_ o _—_**

  
_**—cry—if—I—want—to**_

The sound changes, slowing like a music box winding down, the singer’s voice distorting, deepening

and—

a sudden sliding-up-the-scale, VHS-tape-rewinding kind of 

_**………!**_  
 _—Die if I want to—_

The singer’s voice at its ordinary register again, except—just a little more shrill, the tempo just slightly too fast; no longer cool and withdrawn, but jagged, edged, manic—

_You would die too if it happened to youuuuuuuu **uuuuuu~**_

(final note drawn out unbearably, like fine-strung wire, pitch rising and then  
  
— **plunging**  
**DO _WN_**  
into a gravely grinding **growl—**

**~uuuuUUUU///UUU///|||\\\\\\\||||///||\\\| \|///\\\\\|\\\|`’.`’``’`..’._________** _[happy__birth—day—to— **you___________]**_

unrecognizable now as something that started off as a voice, but the tune still somehow identifiable in the grating, booming, disharmonious chords slamming into her ears

_**[happy__birth—day—to—YOU___________]**_  
the sound of music being beaten to death with a lead pipe organ)

_**[HAPPY__BIRTH—DAY———DEARRR** RRRRRR——_____]_

—wild dark laughter, loud and louder, blending with the atrocity of the music, then rising, drowning it out—

The horrible noise cuts out beneath the sound of Megamind’s supervillain laugh.

_**“People of Metrocity!”** _

Megamind’s voice, amplified, fed through the speakers of the city’s emergency warning sound system. His back to her, his arms flung out, sunlight flashing over the black silk of his cape as it ripples in the wind.

**_“Please, join me in celebrating the birthday of your beloved Miss Ritchi—one—last—TIME!”_ **

He laughs again, the sound of loud and enthusiastic recorded applause like a thunderstorm through the city’s speakers.

A sharp white slice of smile as he glances over the spikes of one shoulder; he holds a hand out to her in invitation.

She takes it.

Megamind pulls her to her feet, up from the low divan she awakened on; draws her towards him, to stand at his side.

The same wind that ripples Megamind’s cape flirts with the hem of her dress and dances through her hair as she looks over the half-wall at the platform’s edge, looks down and _down_ and

_down_

At the city.

They’re even higher up than Roxanne expected, high enough that she can see the _entire_ city, laid out at her feet in geometric silver and black lines—streets and buildings—the green spot that is the park, the spindly spire that is the old observatory tower, the gleaming stone fountain. Directly beneath them is the lake, jewel-tone blues glittering in the sun. The wind dances through Roxanne’s hair as gloved fingers tighten on her own, and—

maybe it’s vertigo and maybe it’s the thin air and maybe it’s just the view, but _something_ is certainly breathtaking. 

Megamind is smiling, still, that fey, overbright, too-sharp, gleeful _grin_ as he watches her face. And—

_How are they—?_

The question must be clear in her face, because Megamind’s smile _widens_ and he flicks his glance to their feet, indicating with his eyes for her gaze to follow. She looks—the gray of the platform floor, her black suede ballet flats, Megamind’s black boots gleaming as he bounces on his toes just slightly, and—

_The floor disappears._

Roxanne gasps, one hand tightening on Megamind’s, grabbing reflexively for the wall with the other, and it’s only when she hears Megamind laugh that her brain catches up to the fact that they’re _not actually falling._

They’re—hovering; there’s no supporting pillars for the platform, and she can feel the faint vibration of whatever engine this thing has through the soles of her feet—her feet which—Roxanne’s stomach swoops—still look like they’re _standing on nothing._

An involuntary shudder, and Megamind laughs again; Roxanne glares at him, tightens her fingers on his even more, digging the nails into the black leather. Infuriatingly, he just guides her hand to grip the top edge of the wall, which is, thank god, actually still visible—probably to keep them from walking off the edge of the thing. Roxanne clutches at the edge and Megamind pats the back of her hand with mock sympathy before skipping away towards the console, which, without the visible support of the platform, now appears to be floating.

Megamind spins, cape swirling around him, dancing on nothing to music only he can hear. A sly glance over one spiked shoulder, green eyes and mischief and barely-held-back laughter and she has just enough time to think _oh no_ before he reaches out to flick a switch on the console and the wall she’s leaning her weight on vanishes out from under her hands.

Roxanne _shrieks_.

She throws herself backwards, away from what her mind insists on perceiving as a sheer, unprotected drop, the sound of her own scream, and of Megamind’s wicked, delighted laughter, ringing out, amplified through every emergency speaker in the city.

Megamind catches her wrist as she scrambles back, pulls her in towards him. Off balance and still gasping, Roxanne stumbles into the circle of his arms, only to find herself spun around again as Megamind catches her other wrist as well, lifts her hands above her head, twirling her around before he releases one of her hands, sending her whirling out away from him again. 

Skirt flaring out in a poppy-red swirl—she looks down without thinking, trying to regain her footing and regrets it immediately and intensely; there’s _nothing_ beneath her feet, just air and the long, long drop down into the glittering blue of the lake.

—nothing holding her up, nothing—

Megamind flicks his wrist, halting her motion, then twists his wrist again, pulling her into a half-spin as he steps close to her, catches her waist in one hand, her shoulder in the other. Pivots the two of them together, steps easily to the side to deposit Roxanne on the divan with a grace that owes absolutely _nothing_ to Roxanne herself.

“You—terrible—horrible—” Head still spinning, heart in her throat, wind and sunlight and Megamind is _still_ laughing, damn him. “—evil—Fred Astaire—nonsense—”

“Oh, Miss Ritchi; you say the nicest things!”

“— _worst_ man—”

**_“Roxy!”_ **

Wayne’s voice, booming through the speakers—full-on Metro-Man, even more so than usual; an undercurrent of actual concern in it.

 _Probably_ because of hearing Roxanne scream, played through the city’s _entire array of emergency alert speakers._

**_“Roxanne! Rox—”_ **

“I’m _fine!”_ Roxanne says, hot and annoyed and still not breathing steadily.

She shoots Megamind a glance with murder in it. He blinks his green eyes wide at her, all dew-kissed innocence, then lets his lashes sweep down, slants a sidelong look at her beneath their shadows, smile lying in wait at the corners of his mouth.

_“Where are you?”_

Megamind, arms crossed, leaning back against the console, holds her gaze with his own. Lifts the fingers of one hand just slightly from his arm, the barest of gestures—not exactly invitation, not permission, either—a gesture of yielding.

And Roxanne—

—doesn’t say anything.

**_“…Roxy? Roxanne!”_ **

Megamind tilts his head very slightly at her, raises his eyebrows, eyes still on hers. 

Roxanne presses her lips briefly together and gives him the smallest, barest shadow of a head shake.

Megamind’s smile licks upwards like paper catching flame, bright and sudden and uncontrollable. He slaps a hand down on one of the console buttons, and a complicated noise of machinery whirrs and clanks loudly into life.

“Oh, dear!” he says, hopping up to sit on the console and raising his voice over the clatter and grinding, as, from the city below them, black smoke begins to rise. “I’m afraid Miss Ritchi is having _far too much fun_ to talk to you right now!”  
  
He waggles his eyebrows at Roxanne, and she has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing.

**_“Megamind! Where have you taken her?”_ **

“If you didn’t get an invitation to the party,” Megamind says severely, shaking his head, “that means you _weren’t invited;_ did no one ever teach you any manners?”

**_“Wherever evil lurks, good has a standing invitation!”_ **

“At least when _I_ crash a party, I _know_ I’m crashing it.”

**“Not crash _—smash!”_**

“Bash the bash? How brash! _And_ rash.” 

Megamind smirks at her, swinging his feet, and Roxanne rolls her eyes at him.

The smoke rises in great black billows, blanketing in the city, and then rolls upwards—higher and higher still. Megamind flips a console switch, and the wind is suddenly cut off—some sort of forcefield bubble around the platform, or maybe just an extension of the invisible walls to close the platform off above their heads, wrapping them in shadow.

For a moment, Roxanne’s vision is entirely dark and—

“Well, Miss Ritchi,” Megamind drawls, green eyes gleaming with an inner light in the blackness, “we’ll see if Metro Man can find us before you meet your— _fête._ ”

Roxanne chokes, hopes the sound is covered by the mechanical cacophony that she’s _pretty sure_ Megamind is just playing for verisimilitude, since he smoke machines hardly make that much noise—or that anyone hearing it will think it’s a noise of distress.

Already, the smoke has begun to roll upwards, moving past the platform swiftly enough that Roxanne can dimly see Megamind grin.

“In the meantime,” he continues, “why don’t we get the party started?”

He raises a finger, ticks it to the side, and, as if by magic, the music kicks in—drums, electric guitars.

Finger upraised, Megamind lifts his eyebrows at her, glances pointedly downwards—that gesture again, urging Roxanne to follow his gaze and look at the floor—the same gesture he used right before he made the floor go invisible under her feet, and if Roxanne were a sensible person, she wouldn’t look a second time.

She’s never been very good at being _sensible_.

The music pulses and thrums, growing louder.

Looking down is not so bad, at least, now that she’s on the divan; it’s almost like being on a flying carpet, really, although the sheer height they’re at still makes her stomach swoop. 

The streets and buildings like a doll’s city in darkness beneath them, shadows and deeper shadows, skyscrapers glinting silver and onyx in the artificial dusk.

“After all,” Megamind says, and beneath his voice, the music growls and wails like a captive demon, “no birthday celebration is complete without _candles_.”

A snap of his fingers, and, all at once, all over the city, great pillars of flame roar into the air as the music breaks free into lyrics—

_Oh let's go, let's strike a light_   
_We're gonna blow like dynamite_   
_I don't care if it takes all night_   
_I’m gonna set this town alight, come on_

Above the city, and the flames, Roxanne’s breath catches—the columns of fire are _tall_ , snapping and twisting and licking the air, taller than a good number of the _buildings_ , wild and white-hot and deadly and how the _hell_ does Megamind think he can keep them from spreading to the rest of the city—

Roxanne looks up sharply at him.

“Megamind—”

He’s watching her, eyes turned to dark pools by the shadows, firelight flickering madly in the depths of them, firelight playing over the sharp angles of his face and shoulders, dancing like fallen angels on the points of the spikes there. 

“Yes, Miss Ritchi?” he says, and she hears the fire in his voice, too, danger smoldering just beneath the surface.

_What do you want_   
_What do you want?_

“I—”

He tilts his head at her, shadows sliding liquid down the curve of one cheek, firelight picking up the line of the tendon in his neck. He looks—

_I want rock 'n' roll_

Roxanne’s heart beats agitatedly against her ribs—mothlike, unreasoning. 

_(she’s not **afraid** of **Megamind** —)_

_Long live rock 'n' roll_

Roxanne bites her tongue—not to still it, but to break whatever—spell, fascination—

Megamind begins to smile, and Roxanne, in sudden, illogical panic, tears her gaze away, turns her eyes desperately to the city—

—which _isn’t_ burning; of course it isn’t; she can see that now, can see—

_Rock of ages, rock of ages_

—can see that the columns of fire are all self-contained, can see—she blinks, frowns, looks closer. Yes, she’s not mistaken—the fires—  
  
The fires are all burning on _water_.

The shallow reflection pool in front of City Hall is alight; there’s a fire burning in the filthy and dangerously outdated Metro City Public Pool. The stagnant, mosquito-infested water filling the ditch where the city started digging the foundations for the Charity Hospital three months ago before they mysteriously discovered they didn’t have enough funding for it after all. The rooftop pool of the Mayor’s house. The fountain in the main public square. All three of the Scott Mansion pools. A whole bright cluster of fires in the new industrial district—the tanks and ponds where the Scott Corporation’s research, development, and manufacturing buildings collect their wastewater.

_We got the power, got the glory_

And even as she watches the fires burning, Roxanne sees a tiny figure fly up from the darkened city—Metro Man, of course. For a moment, he hangs in the air, turning slowly, as if looking around, registering the location of all of the fires.

—deciding, Roxanne thinks, with a twist of cynical amusement, which one it would _look_ _better_ for him to deal with first—her lips twitch, and— 

“Poor Wayne,” Megamind murmurs, as if he’s pulled the words from Roxanne’s mind. “Can’t go put out the fire at his house first—rescue the Mayor’s pool furniture? Save City Hall? More people at the fountain, but City Hall would be a better photo opportunity—preserving the Scott Corporation from damage would arguably be best, since destroying it would put so many people out of work, but accusations of conflict of interest and nepotism are so uncomfortable to deal with.”

Roxanne, biting her lips, looks up at Megamind—he’s leaning back against the console, all spikes and smiles, lit with red light. Standing on nothing, the city burning beneath his feet, a demon king surveying his kingdom.

He glances up at her, fire dancing like laughter in his eyes.

_Just say you need it, and if you need it say yeah_

“—I notice that he seems to have forgotten all about _you_ —I suppose I could make things _really_ difficult for him and replay that _scream_ you were so obliging to provide me with—”

Roxanne’s breath hisses between her teeth as she sits up straight, hands curling into fists.

“You—!”

“—yes, perhaps that _would_ be too cruel,” Megamind says, with mock regret, “if he tries to hold on to more than one thought at a time, his head might explode.”

Roxanne chokes down unwilling laughter and Megamind looks up at her, lower lip caught between his teeth as he smiles.

_I’m burning, burning; I got the fever_

“What do you say, Miss Ritchi? Five dollars and a get-out-of-kidnapping-free card says he goes for City Hall.”

_So feel it; don’t fight it_

Roxanne, torn between outrage and, and, and _laughter_ , goddamn Megamind—

“—twenty dollars and every recording of that scream says he goes for the fountain.”

Megamind laughs, a flash of white teeth and long blue throat.

“Oh, no no no, Miss Ritchi—the scream is not on the bargaining table; I intend to cherish the sound of you screaming for the rest of my life; play it to cheer myself up on particularly bad days—”

“You—you _absolute_ —”

“Oh, no; too late—he’s already gone for—the fountain; you were right!”

Roxanne, gritting her teeth, glares down where Megamind is pointing. Metro Man is, indeed, hovering beside the fountain. For a moment, nothing happens, and then the fire _bends_ towards him, funnels _into_ him. He swallows the fire, engulfing it entirely, leaving nothing but a little wisp of smoke across the water. The spectators applaud, and Metro Man, still hovering, throws them a salute before hurtling in the direction of City Hall’s reflection pool.

_Rock of ages, rock of ages_   
_Still rollin’ rock’n’rollin’_

Metro Man makes quick work of the fires, swallowing down each one, finishing off the last one—the Mayor’s pool—just as the song reaches its conclusion. Flying upwards as if borne on the cheers of the watching populace, Metro Man rises, looking steely-eyed and determined.

**_“Megamind! Your evil has been extin—”_ **

Megamind holds down the audio broadcast button.

“Oh no!” he says. “It looks like you missed one!”

**_“—guished…”_ **

Metro Man turns in the air, just in time to see the fountain burst into flame again.

“—or maybe two or three,” Megamind says, as all of the rest of the fires flare up once more.

Brainbots _ping_ upwards from the city, _zoom_ down from the covering smoke to the sound of someone squeakily tuning an electric guitar. A thousand eyepieces glowing evilly red, metal jaws gnashing and metal claws clashing, all of them making that electronic _bowg_ noise, the cacophony of them merging with the music as it turns to roughly played chords layered with cheekily cheerful horns.

“You have fun with that!” Megamind says, as the brainbots swoop en masse towards Metro Man.

_I've got something to say_   
_And it ain't the usual sort of sob-story_   
_That you hear every day._

Releasing the audio transmission button, Megamind turns to Roxanne, grinning widely.

“He’s gonna be so pissed when he finally shows up,” Roxanne says, shaking her head, torn between amusement and concern.

Megamind raises his eyebrows at her.

“And what makes you think our _intrepid hero_ will be joining us?”

Roxanne blinks, nonplussed.

_I've got something to ask,_   
_And I know that now's the time,_   
_Now all the rooms of the party are dark._

Of course Metro Man is going to get here _eventually_ ; Megamind plays games sometimes, distracting Metro Man with one thing or another, making him locate them himself, things like that—but Metro Man always shows up in the end, to deal with—whatever it is that Megamind’s got set up for him to deal with before he can rescue Roxanne. 

_Proffer me the candy,_   
_Yes, I understand is fine;_

Without the hero, what would be the point?

_Blow another candle out_   
_And throw another line..._

Below them, Metro Man streaks through the city’s skyscape, brainbots in hot pursuit. Ordinarily, of course, he’s easily much faster than them, but he’s hampered by the fact that every time he stops beside one of the fires to swallow the flames, the brainbots are able to swarm him, snatching at his meticulously coiffed hair with sharp scrabbly claws, rending the hem of his cape with razor snapping jaws, and biting at the tassels that swing from his gloves and boots.

_Birthday girl, I've got something for you,_

“Are you enjoying your birthday party so far, Miss Ritchi?” Megamind asks, a twist of dark amusement in his voice that makes something in Roxanne twist as well with the desire to sink _claws_ into him.

“—it’s—very pretty,” she says, letting her tone turn the compliment into an implicit criticism of insipidity. “Not sure how _evil_ it is…”

Above the city, Metro Man shakes off a small swarm of brainbots and takes off quickly in another direction.

_There's ice in the cauldron, look out now_

“‘Not sure how evil it is?” Megamind raises his eyebrows at her. “And what about poor Metro Man?”

Roxanne turns her head, watches Metro Man shake off the small swarm of brainbots clinging to him with sharp jaws before taking off swiftly in another direction.

“Hmmm,” she says, turns to look at Megamind again. “And what does _Metro Man_ have to do with _my_ birthday kidnapping?”

“Oh-ho-ho-ho!” Megamind’s face lights up with wicked delight. “Still irked that he forgot you in the rush to blow out your candles?”

Roxanne lifts one shoulder in a shrug, leans back nonchalantly on the divan.

“I suppose it’s just difficult to feel impressed when none of your ‘evil’ is actually for _me_.”

She waves a languid, explanatory hand, indicating Metro Man, fighting off brainbots and putting out fires all across the city, the task made more difficult by the way the fires _still_ keep springing right back up after he’s put them out. He’s taken to using superspeed to flick between fires, in an attempt to cope, and to escape the harassment of the bots, but this plan has been swiftly foiled by the brainbots, who have simply divided themselves up between all of the fires, a swarm for each one, ready to attack Metro Man as soon as he appears.

_Birthday girl, here comes a special_   
_Like Hansel and Gretel never had._

Instead of the sputtering indignation and posturing she half-expects, he just— _smiles_ at her, slow and silken, languid menace.

“Well, now,” he says, I certainly can’t have my damsel feeling insufficiently imperiled on her birthday! I was attempting to be merciful, considering your earlier— _ah_ —obvious _distress_. But, if you’re sure…”

He arches a brow, green eyes gleaming wickedly. A little thrill of unease flutters in the pit of Roxanne’s stomach—Megamind lifts a hand in a stage magician’s gesture, holds it poised there, upraised, and then—

—clicks his fingers.

Roxanne doesn’t scream this time when the divan she’s sitting on disappears but it is a very near thing. 

_There’s parrots in the pantry_

She makes a half-smothered _“—nnnnn!”_ noise—terrified repudiation of reality—and scrabbles with her hands at the invisible shape of the divan, feeling it solid under her palms and _still_ half-convinced it’s not really there.

Standing beside the console, Megamind snickers; she hisses through her teeth and glares at him—loses track of her feeling for the _there-ness_ of the divan, and half-falls, half-leaps off of it.

Which of course only makes Megamind laugh _harder_ , that absolute _ass_ — 

“Right, that is _it_ —”

Roxanne yanks off first one shoe, then the other; as she suspected, the feeling of the _texture_ of the floor helps to mitigate the vertigo. She curls her toes into fists, and then, since Megamind is _still_ snickering, she throws both shoes at him, one at a time. He dodges them easily, running behind the console. In a burst of stomach-twisting determination, Roxanne gives chase, and—

“—you and your cheap—dirty—tricks—”

“—you asked for it, Miss Ritchi! You asked!”

“—just the _same thing_ —not even anything new—”

“—it worked so well last time, though!”

“—going to murder you—shoe—when I get you—”

Roxanne is laughing, now, though, in spite of herself, laughing and—and _skimming_ over the surface of the air, lighter than she’s been in years, almost the lightness of childhood—are they high up enough for her to actually feel the change in gravity? Or maybe it’s just an optical-tactile illusion, this sensation that she’s almost _flying—_

Megamind clicks his fingers and the console disappears just as he suddenly _stops_ running, stops and turns towards her instead, and before Roxanne’s legs can decide what to _do_ about any of this, she’s collided with him—

“—shitshitshit—”

Instead of the disastrous crash she’s expecting, though, Megamind, who must have anticipated her delayed response time, has caught her around the waist and flipped her up into the air—

—feetoffthegroundupsidedown—

Roxanne gives a shriek of terrified exhilaration as she’s thrown into a somersault and then tossed over Megamind’s shoulder—almost a familiar position for an instant; he’s carried her over his shoulder before, occasionally even while she was conscious, although she’s usually facing in the opposite direction yeah okay no this isn’t familiar at all oh god—but Megamind doesn’t even stop with her over his shoulder in the reverse sort of fireman’s carry, but pivots his body and continues the momentum of his throw and—

He tosses her up to stand on the invisible console, and it’s like she’s _levitating_ and it is wonderful and she is _falling_ and it is _terrible_ everything is terrible, _everything,_ but especially _Megamind_ —

And she really _is_ falling, her knees giving out from beneath her, and she has just enough time to make a squeaking noise before Megamind, having swung himself up onto the table after her, catches her, _dips her_ , and sets her back on her feet. 

Clinging to him to keep from collapsing, hand clutching his shoulder, palm slid somehow underneath his mantle; other hand at his chest, twisted in the material of his suit, his face beside hers, nothing visible but the upward sweep of his ear, the corner of his jawbone. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, supporting most of her weight; his other at her back, palm resting in the inward curve of her spine, keeping her balanced. Bodies _not_ pressed together, but so close they might as well be, because she can _feel_ the rapid rise and fall motion of his chest in the inches of air between them, can hear the quick rhythm of his breathing in her ear, and it takes her a moment to realize that he’s _not_ , actually, even short of breath; he’s _laughing_ —

“Evil Fred Astaire enough for you, Miss Ritchi?” he asks, arch tone uneven with gleeful laughter. “Feeling sufficiently menaced yet, are we? You did scream again.”

“Hateyouhateyouhateyou _hateyou_ —unoriginal, self-copying—ing—ing— _hack_ —”

A chuckle, low and pleased. “Like I said—why change what works?” 

The guitars and drums keep quick time behind everything and Megamind is _smiling_ , she can _hear it_ in his voice, can _feel it_ in the way his hands go just a shade _gentler_ against her. 

Roxanne lifts the hand on his shoulder up enough to rake her nails over the side of his neck, getting _skin_ this time—Megamind actually twitches at that, makes a squawking noise of pained surprise, and the satisfaction of _that_ is the only reason she’s able to stop herself from _biting_ him in her anger, like an enraged feral _cat_.

“Ack!” he lets go of her, steps back, hand pressed to his neck, eyes wide and round, but his breathing is the rhythm of startled laughter.

Roxanne, without his support, wobbles precariously, the logic of _standing on this console is not actually that much more unstable than standing on the floor; she is not that much higher up_ giving her no comfort whatsoever. Indignation keeps her upright, however. She hisses through her teeth, eyes narrowed, stabs a finger at Megamind.

“You—you—you—”

Megamind, lips twitching and trembling, raises his free hand in wide-eyed half-joking surrender.

“Now, now, Miss Ritchi; you can’t blame me! I’m only—only giving you—what you _asked me for_ —birthday—”

**_“Megamind!”_ **

Metro Man’s bellow splits the air, makes them both jump, and Roxanne’s legs give up and give out, fold beneath her, plunking her down on the console in a heap of fury.

Megamind jumps down from the console swiftly, with a truly _irritating_ grace. Roxanne glares at him.

**_“Megamind!”_ **

Metro Man is up in the air still, actually fairly near to their platform, though he’s turning around in circles, glaring around indiscriminately in all directions in a way that makes it clear he still has no idea where they are.

He looks— _huh_ —worse than Roxanne has ever seen him looking, actually—singed around all of his edges: hair, cape, costume. Wild-eyed, his hair sticking up in all directions from where the brainbots have been clawing at it; his cape a tattered scrap of its former glory, the fur collar crisped with heat. Smears of ash on the usually pristine white of his costume; all of the fringe from his boots and gloves missing. One boot has a _hole_ in the toe, his face is smeared with soot and flushed an unbecoming red color with heat.

And he actually looks mildly _ill_ , one hand pressed to his stomach as if to fend off nausea—or possibly heartburn, Roxanne thinks, from swallowing so much fire. Behind him, half of Megamind’s ‘candles’ are _still_ burning, and the brainbots, though distant, circle him ominously. Wayne watches them with one bloodshot eye and half of his attention.

**_“You hear me, Megamind? You—”_ **

Megamind depresses the communication transmission button.

“Sorry, so sorry,” Megamind says, “what was that?”

**_“I said your—”_ **

Megamind twists a dial, and the music volume increases.

_I just wanted to say_

“What did you say?” he calls.

**_“I said—”_ **

Megamind twists the dial further, increasing the volume even further—

_That I’d like to make this—_

“Hello?” 

**_“Megamind!”_ **

_—the happiest—_

Another twist of the dial.

“Metro Man? Hello? Hello?” 

_—of all of your birthdays—_

Megamind glances at Roxanne, eyebrows raised in such a convincing expression of innocent apology that it’s hard to remember that she is _annoyed with him god damn it._

“I’m so sorry, Miss Ritchi—I think he must have hung up.”

_And if that means turning the key_

**_“I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”_ **

“Oh, there you are,” Megamind says mildly, twisting the dial in the opposite direction, taking the music down to a quiet murmur. “Did you hear that, Miss Ritchi? It’s Metro Man!”

Roxanne almost— _almost_ —chokes on an extremely unwilling laugh, but manages to hold it back.

_(Then I’ll turn it with you)_

**_“Stop hiding and come out!”_ **Metro Man screams, one beefy hand clenching. **_“You’ve got a lot to answer for!”_**

_(And there’ll be no question)_

“Oh, dear me, Officer Scott,” Megamind says, ingratiating tone and wickedly amused eyes, “has there been a noise complaint? Is our party’s music too loud? I’m so _terribly_ sorry!”

Roxanne bites the insides of her cheeks—don’t smile; don’t smile; don’t smile; he’s not. funny. _don’t_ smile—

_(About the way I agree)_

“I think you have much more important matters to attend to, though, Officer Scott,” Megamind says sweetly, as, behind Metro Man, the rest of the flames are bursting out once again.

Metro Man’s chest puffs out as he swells with indignation. His mouth opens and—

Megamind _violently_ twists the dial, bringing the music up all the way, loud and sudden, drowning Metro Man’s words completely.

_BIRTHDAY GIRL, I’VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU,_   
_THERE’S ICE IN THE CAULDRON, LOOK OUT NOW_

He flicks the switch on the console, closing the audio broadcast channel from the platform. Turns a secondary dial which brings the music down to a low undertone—only inside the enclosed platform, Roxanne is pretty sure, given the way Wayne is still silently shouting on the other side of the glass. 

As she watches, a group of brainbots flies stealthily up beneath him and—

Wayne notices them, face contorting, lips moving, framing a word Roxanne is fairly certain is not on the ‘approved language list for family-friendly heroes’ and streaks sideways, banks sharply, dives down fast for the relative cover of the buildings.

Megamind takes a step back from the—still fucking invisible—console, looks at her much like Metro Man looked at the brainbots before they swooped down upon him like vengeance personified. Roxanne folds her arms and glares daggers and swords and assorted other pointy instruments of death at him.

“All right, all right!” he says, holding up his hands. “No more dancing! No more dancing! Promise; I promise! Villain’s honor!”

“You,” Roxanne says. “You are the—the—most _infuriating, annoying, worst—”_

She cuts off into strangling motions, unable to continue.

“Yes, yes,” Megamind says soothingly. “All right. Let me make it up to you. Yes?”

Roxanne watches him from under suspiciously lowered brows. He looks back at her, face honest and open.

“No more evil Fred Astaire?” she asks—there is no way she is going to be able to do any more of _that_ without her body giving out like a limp, overcooked noodle.

“No more evil Fred Astaire,” Megamind says. “Cross my black and wicked heart and hope to die.”

He does so, raising his eyebrows at her.

Roxanne chews her lip.

“Agonizingly,” she says.

“—agonizingly,” he agrees, mouth quirking sideways in a smile.

Roxanne waves a hand at him in an impatient motion. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, make it up to me,” she says, leaning back on the console and arranging her legs to look less like something belonging to a dysfunctional spider who has been thrust inexplicably into a red dress. 

For a moment, Megamind just looks at her, a smile playing around the edges of his lips—and _playing_ , is, in fact, the right word, light beginning to spark and sparkle in his eyes again.

He presses the audio transmission button.

 ** _“Metrocity!”_** he exclaims, voice at full Supervillain Presentation volume again.

Aaaand Roxanne is suddenly suspicious of this so-called ‘making it up to her’ that he’s promised— 

**_“In honor of the birthday of one of the most—_ uniquely challenging _damsels ever to grace a deathtrap—”_**

_Uniquely challenging?_ Roxanne mouths the words at him, eyes narrowed.

He waves a loftily dismissive had at her and continues his monologue unabated.

**_“—here is a song which best—celebrates—the—_ highlight attributes _of her personality.”_**

Megamind gives her a _blindingly_ brilliant smile.

**_“Happy Birthday, Roxanne Ritchi.”_ **

He releases the button, twists the music dial down—presses a series of buttons in quick succession—twists the volume dial up—

Lifts a finger for dramatic effect—

—presses one final button.

(A woman’s voice—speaking, not singing—)

_Listen, ah—if you like love songs—_

Roxanne’s eyes fly wide, a shock traveling all down the center of her— 

(what)

_—well, we think this is one of the most beautiful love songs that’s ever been written—_

Megamind—Megamind has turned away from her, only the line of his shoulders, the dark fall of his cape—curve of his collar and the curve of the top of his head and and and 

**(what)**

_—and we’d like to do it especially for all of y’all—_

and and Roxanne is  
hot and cold at the same  
time and   
she is

_—and it goes like this—_

and and and

(a single chord strummed across guitar strings in a liquid ripple)

_—do that again; that’s pretty—_

and and

(chord, strummed again, and then the—)

**_WELL—A HARD HEADED WOMAN_ **   
**_A SOFT-HEARTED MAN_ **   
**_BEEN THE CAUSE OF TROUBLE EVER SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN_ **

(—the _lyrics_ )

_OH—OH YEAH_   
_EVER SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN_   
_HARD HEADED WOMAN IS THE THORN IN THE SIDE OF MAN_

Cackling wildly, Megamind _whirls_ around to face her—

No one could mistake Roxanne’s third scream for anything but a war cry of sheer rage.

 _Megamind’s_ scream, on the other hand—

Roxanne _leaps_ off of the console, landing in a predatory crouch, teeth bared—

She has never seen anyone’s expression change so quickly from glee to mortal terror.

—and then she’s _up_ and launching herself towards him like the nightmare of a velociraptor, talons outstretched, screeching as he runs, shrieking, for his life.

_“OH GOD OH GOD— OH NO AAAAAAAHHHH NONONONO—”_

**Author's Note:**

> …to be continued.
> 
> The songs Megamind plays are—
> 
> It’s My Party by Lesley Gore  
> Birthday Special by Peter Hammill  
> Rock of Ages by Def Leppard  
> Hard Headed Woman by Wanda Jackson
> 
> This fic is for revukanfendrenim, who I got in the Megamind Month exchange. I hope you like it!
> 
> (It’s October 23rd—Happy Birthday, Roxanne Ritchi!)
> 
> ((I’m so proud I managed to get this posted before midnight))


End file.
